What Sonic Means Today

Share.

It's been 20 years since Sonic the Hedgehog appeared. Is Sega's blue mascot a forgotten icon, or does he have more to offer?

By Colin Campbell

There have been so many dismal Sonic games over the last two decades, it's easy to forget just how important this character was back in 1991 and how Sega's provocative blue mascot is emblematic of a crucial chapter in gaming history.

Sonic the Hedgehog was a fantastic game. But it was more than just a neat piece of work pressed onto a cartridge. It was representative of some extraordinary individual talents at Sega, and of a crucial moment in the morphing of games in the popular imagination: the evolution from a pastime for social retards into something desirable and aspirational.

Way more than its genre predecessor Mario, Sonic was a bridge between the boys-in-bedrooms era of the 1980s and the universe we live in now, in which games as an idea is owned by everyone. Sonic made that happen.

To be clear, this does not make Sonic better or more important than Mario. It may be that in the unfolding drama of console gaming's history, Mario plays the leading man. But Sonic's walk-on part in 1991 shifted the plot beyond recognition.

In the late 1980s Sega provided the world with the Master System, which managed to sell something in the region of 12 million units during its lifetime. The all-but-forgotten Alex Kidd is generally accepted as the company's mascot at that time. In contrast, Nintendo's NES system has sold at least five times as many systems. Its mascot, then as now, was Mario, unarguably one of the most valuable intellectual properties in the world.

But after Sonic arrived, Sega vs Nintendo was an actual battle.

The 16-bit Sega Genesis (August 1989, U.S) came out a full two years before the Super Nintendo (Aug 1991, U.S). Nintendo was unwilling to commit to an expensive new technology play while its current products were selling so well. (It is comforting to note that some things do not change.) Nintendo's massive brand advantage, superior IP ownership and airtight deals with third parties kept it in the race against better technology. The Genesis (also called Mega Drive in Europe) did not get off to a roaring start.

However, new management at Sega of America took an aggressive marketing stance against Nintendo, taunting its rival and positioning itself as the cooler, street-wise product. To make this forceful argument, the marketing eggheads focused on the concept of 'speed' -- and no-one personified speed like Sonic.

Sega's Genesis had been bundled with an appalling, lumbering game called Altered Beast. Once it came packaged up with Sonic, sales bloomed. By 1992 Nintendo was losing the battle for console dominance. Although SNES came back strong, it was a scary moment for Nintendo's top-brass. It would be a long, long time before Nintendo could once again claim to be the dominant player in console sales.

Sega's claim that its console came with "Blast Processing" is now considered to be a sleight-of-hand bordering on dishonesty.

But consumers in 1991 were not complete idiots. Even if you were faintly bamboozled by this marketing mind-trick, you could hardly be confused by the evidence of your own eyes - Sonic was fast. Really fast.

Sonic the Hedgehog was not an exacting, lolloping fantasy in the style of Super Mario World. Players rolled rapidly through slopes and loops, and soared via springs into unexpected alternative routes. The rings you collected as you zoomed along offered bonuses as well as protection. The game was easy to play, looked gorgeous and sounded amazing. In terms of forgiveness, it was thoroughly modern; anyone could join the fun. Back in 1991, it was wholly new and unique.

Sonic the Hedgehog played beautifully alongside Sega's edgy, sharply honed marketing message. Kids who had grown up playing Nintendo as children were ready to be wooed by something new.

Cool teenage boys are about the dumbest creatures on this planet (they are primary targets for cigarette companies) but they exert influence. Sega became a brand for men well into their 20s and for young women. Sonic became a game and a brand. He adorned T-shirts worn by pretty girls, in a non-ironic way. This was geek-chic.

Sega's Yuji Naka and artist Naoto Oshima were tasked with the job of creating Sega's new mascot. It took them a year to create the character and the game.

Sonic's main characteristics were more defined than Mario's in their early days. He is a hedgehog, but he is more identifiably human. Even if you pass over the marketing documents that outline his desired personality, it's clear that he is a person who goes through life getting what he wants. Normally, this is a dubious virtue, but Sonic carries it off with charm, and we all know people somewhat like that.

His eyes are determined and intense, almost to the point of aggression. His spikes speak for themselves. When he's in a hurry, he rolls up into a ball and simply moves through whatever problem gets in his way. Like Mario, he is a simple soul, but you'd rather have him on your side in a bar-fight. He is less inclined to rely on random power-ups than on his own natural abilities.

Oshima has been quoted as stating that Sonic was perceived as being a very American ideal (he is red, white and blue). It's fascinating to look back at 1991 and compare that world with what was, at the time, the world's most successful foreign-made American ideal.

Today, post-Iraq and post-Bush, we have become accustomed to seeing foreigners create unflattering American archetypes. The dumb-cowboy beloved of French cartoonists, or the loud-mouthed and crass Texan-type, are well-meaning but destructive images. This is the America that inhabits snooty dinner-parties outside our shores, and has done so for many decades.

But in 1991 America was enjoying a brief respite from these tired clichés as its enemies collapsed. The repressive dictatorships of the Soviet Union were finished. Saddam Hussein's invasion of Kuwait was being rolled back by the over-whelming force of U.S and allied troops. It seemed like the threat of being obliterated by nuclear bombs was no longer quite so imminent.

A nasty recession was coming to an end; incomes and house prices were on the rise. Employment was growing. American innovators were changing our lives, as computers morphed from baffling boxes for dweebs into genuinely useful helpers. Even The Terminator turned out to be a good guy.

In 1991, the world seemed like it might actually be going someplace good. It helped to be in your early 20s.

Sonic represented a simple ideal of change and hope, a youthful I-can-do-it, screw-you world-view that held wide and popular appeal. Sonic was of his time. That was his genius. He represented Sega at its peak and gaming as it emerged into a new era. For a middle-aged man looking back two decades, he represents wider ideals.

It's a shame Sega was unable to hold onto these ideals. Sonic games became progressively weaker as the years went on. Outside of its diehard congregation, Sega was unable to retain its brand identity as something progressive, advanced and cool. And the character was assailed by hundreds of mid-1990s rip-offs and the inevitable backlash best personified by Itchy & Scratchy's cringe-worthy dog-mascot Poochie.

But Sonic never was one to give up. This year's Sonic Generations celebrates the character's highlights over the past two decades. It's shaping up to be one of the stand-out games of the year. We can only hope that Sonic can once again represent the world he inhabits and the world we inhabit, rather than merely the short-term ambitions of marketing people.

So let's raise a glass to Sonic the Hedgehog and to 1991 and wish the world a little more of the sparky, spunky, rolling roustabout that came from Yuji Naka and Naoto Oshima.